


Self-loathing (A Daily Exercise)

by verycoolperson, Vrunka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Drabble, Illustrated, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Sniffing, Pining, Pussy Genji, Shimadacest, Stink Kink, unrequieted love, voyurism, with Illustration!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verycoolperson/pseuds/verycoolperson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: A series of stand-alone but also semi-connected drabbles revolving around Genji pre and post Blackwatch. Dirty little snippets of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Verycoolperson/Whynotmyart is a creative muse and also the worst thing to happen to me.
> 
> http://whynotmyart.tumblr.com/post/160047548136/heres-a-cropped-version-for-an-nsfw-illustration

It's the smell of them really that gets him.

And it's disgusting.

And he hates it.

But it doesn't stop him from sneaking into his brother's room after practice. It doesn't stop him from crouching behind the screen until he hears the roaring of the shower and he knows in his gut that Hanzo is occupied.

It's thievery and it's wrong and it's downright gross.

But it doesn't stop him from lifting the lid of the hamper and tugging Hanzo's used briefs out in his fist.

Orange like his practice gear.

And if Genji dug further into the pile of clothes he could get that too. His brother's top. Sweat drenched. But the underwear, it's decidedly better.

Not just sweat stink but musk. The smell of Hanzo's most intimate and dirty places.

Genji rocks his hips. Bites his lip.

He is safe, for the moment, but he needs to be quicker. Hanzo is nothing if not economical with his time. The shower will be twelve minutes, on the dot. It always is.

Genji tucks the underwear into his jeans.

Genji makes his escape.

His room is a welcome sanctuary. The light from the windows gone golden and yellow. Genji's bed is a mess.

Hanzo would have something to say about it, if he saw it.

Hanzo would have something to say about all of this.

Genji falls onto the mattress, drags his prize to his face and inhales. Shudders on the exhale.

A little bit of self-loathing.

A whole, whole lot of arousal.

God, it's fucking sick.

It's not just the thought of getting off to the salt-thick stink of a man. The clogging, musky, heady stench of it. That sort of kink, Genji could cope with.

It's the fact that it's the salt-thick stink of his brother that gets him.

He knows.

He's tried others.

And wasn't that an awkward fucking situation; asking Mit-Kun if Genji could smell his balls. Using a blowjob as an excuse for it.

Genji twists.

Cups the underwear against his nose and inhales again. His other hand rips frantic at his jeans; he lifts his hips to shove them off one-handed.

His cock is already hard.

The act of the theft and the smell that is Hanzo Hanzo Hanzo has more than gotten him there.

He swirls his thumb around the head and hisses. His knees knock together. His forehead is trapped sweaty in the crook of his elbow. Suffocating with the press of Hanzo's dirty underwear in his nose, the smell of them down his throat.

He is drowning in it, surrounded by it. His lips part and his tongue presses against the fabric. Soaking it further.

Disgusting.

It's absolutely disgusting and Genji hates it even as he does it. Even as the flavor, heavy salt on his tongue, settles low in his gut and sends another thrilling twinge of longing through him.

His eyes prickle.

Sweat on his cheeks.

He pulls his face back for a clarifying breath of air.

He grabs for a pillow, curls into it. The underwear hangs from his fist.

God, he hates himself for being like this.

God, he hates Hanzo, for doing this to him.

He takes his hand off his cock and curls tighter around the pillow half-under his head. His cock brushes against the mattress, and Genji humps against the firmness instinctually. He forces himself to stop.

He can still taste Hanzo's ball sweat on his lips. Mixing with the salt of his own tears.

He hates and he hates.

But what can he do about it.

He presses against the mattress again. Braces an elbow under himself as he drags his cock through the sheets.

What would Hanzo say if he could see him?

What would Hanzo do?

Genji rucks his shirt up, trails his fingers down lines of his abs. He closes his eyes and imagines it's Hanzo.

Not that Hanzo would ever touch him so gentle. Genji arches his fingers to trace his nails along the skin. Goosebumps in the wake of them.

He shoves a pillow between his knees and imagines that it's Hanzo's thigh. The firm, yet soft, pressure of it. Thick. Sculpted.

Genji groans.

His fingers return to his neglected cock. His erection has not flagged even the slightest. Curling and red and slick. Precome pools on the pillow, drips in pulses from the head of his cock. Thick and warm from his slit.

Hanzo would make fun of him for it. In Genji's fantasy, Hanzo would leer and pinch and tease.

So Genji does just that. Pinches with thumb and forefinger at the sensitive slit of his cockhead. Nail catching on the urethra. Genji outright moans. He spasms against the pillow.

It's just this side of too wrong.

There are still tears on his cheeks.

Hanzo is on the other side of the house, ignorant to the thoughts Genji is indulging over here. Maybe he's looking for his underwear by now, gone to do laundry and found it missing. Genji can imagine him shifting through the small pile, puzzled.

The thought blossoms further. Genji's hand shifts to hold his cock more fully as the image of Hanzo on his knees by the hamper morphs and changes to another sight.

Hanzo on his knees outside of Genji's door with his face pressed to the wood. Listening to his brother get off with his dirty underwear shoved in his mouth. Jerking himself off frantically against the wall. Desperate to come before Genji can finish. Desperate not to get caught.

There's the thought.

Hanzo grunting as he fucks his own fist and Genji in here, unaware, doing the same thing. Each caught in their own fucked up orbit, circling the other.

Genji wonders what Hanzo looks like when he comes, if that serious expression breaks into something serene as he hits that pinnacle. As he falls. As he collapses.

Genji wonders if Hanzo would say his name. Or if he'd call him little brother.

Genji says Hanzo's name, panting it into the underwear. Crying and babbling and moaning as he crests orgasm. As his muscles shake and shudder and relax.

The pillow sags between his thighs.

Drool on the one under his head. Genji wipes the underwear across his cheek, along his chin. Saliva and tears both erased by the material. He sits up, though all his body wants to do is sleep.

He turns the stolen briefs between his palms.

Debating, debating.

Then he leans over the edge of the bed and tosses them beneath it.


	2. Chapter 2

"You wanted to speak with me?" Genji says. His throat clicks, alien-like, foreign. He is still unused to it. The slight reverb on his s-words. Like a metallic lisp.

Sibilant. 

Someone speaking too close to a microphone.

Reyes looks up at him. There is paperwork on the desk. If Genji tries hard enough he could read it from here, across the room. The enhancements to his eyes are just that good.

But he doesn't care about what's happening with Omnics in Hong Kong or Chile. He doesn't care about the minor terrorist insurgents Blackwatch has routed out in Russia and Cuba.

He cares about his family.

He cares about the fact Overwatch has not loosed him against them yet.

"We've been looking over the info you provided," Reyes says. He crosses his arms on the desk. His elbow bumps his coffee mug and Genji can hear the way the liquid inside sloshes. Like a pinprick in his ears, a fly, an annoyance.

Reyes' gaze narrows. Thoughtful. Studying the way Genji is standing.

"Feelin' alright, there," he asks.

Genji shakes his head; realizes the way the motion could be read then nods instead. "Fine. You were reviewing the information. And you have decided..."

Genji trails off. His remaining skin feels tight. An itch, the seams where his mechanical parts start is a throb. He needs this.

He needs it.

He has to be allowed to leave, to kill what is left of his family.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Reyes sighs. "You aren't gonna like it, kid, so you may as well settle down. Have a seat."

"I am not going to like it?"

Another sigh, deeper this time. Reyes pinches the bridge of his nose. "No," he says, simply. "You aren't." He pauses, perhaps waiting for Genji to sit.

But Genji can't sit.

He can barely breath.

For almost a year now they've had him working for them to take out the odd military threat, civilian uprising. Countries and backwater villages and shitstain nations. And Genji has done every stupid, nonsense torture and murder and assassination they have asked for because he was promised--he was Promised--he would be allowed to turn his blade on the Shimadas eventually.

And now...

Now.

"It's dangerous," Reyes says.

"I do not care."

"I get that. Believe me, I do. And I'm trying to level with you here, kid."

Level. Like the two of them can be equals when Reyes is Genji's commander; when he holds the leash. When he dictates what can and cannot happen.

Level. Like Doctor Ziegler hasn't installed a bomb in him. Like Genji can leave anytime without permission.

His hands clench at his sides. The fingers of his right hand creak, the joints unable to withstand the pressure he is exerting.

"Genji," Reyes says. "I know, okay?" he says. "I know."

But he doesn't know. He cannot know. Maybe he thinks he does, because everyone thinks they do. But they do not. They don't even come close to scratching the surface.

Hanzo killed him.

Hanzo fucking killed him.

And after everything, after all of it, Genji still wakes up tasting Hanzo on his tongue. The lingering ghost of it, backwards and unfair.

Hanzo killed him.

But in Genji's dreams, his brother still floats phantom-like above him and touches his cock. A knee between Genji's. His lips on Genji's pulse.

Hanzo killed him.

And Genji still longs for him to the very remaining core of his being.

And no one--absolutely no one--understands that.

Genji is aware that Reyes is still talking to him. His lips move in easy, simple shapes. Genji isn't listening.

Maybe Reyes sees the disconnect in his eyes because he trails off. He stops explaining.

"Genji," he says. "Strike Commander Morrison just thinks..."

His tone is gentle.

McCree was gentle.

Holding Genji's hand. Innocent kisses in the shadow of the commissary. His big hands lifting Genji's hips. Stroking the mechanical bracing that makes up Genji's new spine.

Kisses and kisses and sweet words.

Fucking hell, Genji doesn't want gentle and sweet. He doesn't want the softness.

He wants Hanzo.

And Hanzo killed him.

"Fuck you, Commander," he says.

It gets the reaction he wants. Reyes' shoulders snap to attention. His fingers spread on the desk top.

"Excuse me," Reyes says. Like he has misheard. Giving Genji the benefit of the doubt.

"I said," Genji says. Stepping further into the room. His footsteps are somewhat muted on the carpet. He knows at least somewhat the figure he cuts. The inhuman shapes of him. But Reyes doesn't look away. Reyes has never really been intimidated by him. "Fuck. You." Genji annunciates the words.

For a moment, he almost sounds like himself.

Like an afterthought, he settles his hands on the desk opposite Reyes. Mechanical and flesh. There's a line of blood under his nail, must have cut his palm earlier.

Reyes looks up at him. He looks down.

"Look," he says, "look, look, look. It's not about just you."

"Fuck that. It is about me. This...this is what I am--"

Living for.

Hanzo beneath him. With blood on his lips. His chest an open cavity, Genji's hands around his heart.

"I know," Reyes says again, sincerely. Drawn and quiet. "And I'm sorry."

"You are lying."

"Genji..."

"No. You're letting Morrison lead you by the throat," Genji says. Hisses. Some of the words slur but Genji can see the impact Morrison's name carries.

Another shift of Reyes' shoulders. A tightening in his forearms. A tick in his jaw. Pupils expanding. Adam's apple bobbing.

"Oh shit," Genji says because he remembers what it was like. Because every morning he thinks of Hanzo and he feels the same. "Or the cock I guess."

Reyes' eyes snap to his face. His fingers curl on the desk. "That's out of line," he says. Gabriel Reyes is so tightly controlled, so carefully crafted, but the edges are peeling.

And there is something in him as fathomless as the thing inside of Genji.

"Sorry," Genji says. Off-hand. Not sorry. "Perhaps you're the one servicing his cock, huh? Down on your knees. Probably better for him if you don't get the chance to--"

"I said it's enough," Reyes says.

Genji shrugs, plays it off. Like riling up Hanzo used to be. It's easy, easy for him.

"Right," Genji says. "Sure, of course. Sorry, sir. I just...does he know that want him to bend you over and fuck you like a dog or--"

Reyes moves like lightning. A flash and only Genji's new reflexes keep him from ending up tossed across the room. They don't keep him from getting caught though.

A shade too slow.

On purpose, though Genji will never admit it.

Reyes has him by the wrist.

A hand connects solidly with his chest. And for a second Genji feels the fleeting patter of panic. The network of tubes and wires over his right pec is the only thing keeping him alive.

Wanting to die and wanting to die like this are different.

Genji stumbles back. His legs haven't caught the equilibrium for this sort of close combat. No sword to plunge, no blade to avoid. Reyes' grip on his wrist keeps him from going down, but it's a close thing. Something in the mechanical joint snaps. Genji doesn't feel it go, but the sound is visceral, it twinges low in his gut.

It's exactly, exactly what he is looking for.

The sound seems to hit Reyes as well. His expression falters. The fingers loosen on Genji's wrist.

"Shit," he says, "fuck. You okay?"

Genji makes a noise, it slips from his throat. Something like a whimper. A broken little keen. The fingers of his robot hand twitch. The pinkie and the ring finger do not move. Deadened. Curling.

Genji grabs at Reyes' shoulder with his flesh hand. The soft warm cotton of Reyes' hoodie under his palm. Dark blue fabric between his fingers. He tugs the two of them together.

Desperation now.

The edge of it.

Something he has never been able to have before now.

He stands close, presses closer when Reyes tenses against him. His lips hover, his breath between them humid and sour. Machine oil.

But Reyes doesn't say anything about that.

He tips his chin.

"What are you doing, kid?" he asks. "We need to get your arm--"

"Please," Genji begs. His fingers tighten on Reyes' shoulder. He thinks of Hanzo. The blue of Hanzo's shirt between his fingers. Soft cotton. Warm and too tight across Hanzo's chest.

They were going to run away together.

They were supposed to be running away.

"I just need," Genji swallows, his teeth are inches from Reyes' beating pulse. He can see it in Reyes' neck, the bundled jumping arteries.

"I can't," Reyes says. "I shouldn't."

"I can't," Hanzo could have said. "We shouldn't."

It's almost good enough.

Genji pulls again, throwing his weight back. He knows how surprisingly heavy he is. Reyes does too, but he doesn't brace for it quick enough.

The two of them pitch forward.

Genji's back takes most of the impact, Reyes' hand at the base of his spine helps some.

It doesn't hurt anyway, Angela did a good job on the nerves back there.

Genji pushes his hips up, his knees bracketing Reyes' hips.

"Commander," he says, right into Reyes' ear. "No one has to know. I'll never tell Morrison. He'll never find out."

"Kid, you--"

Genji shakes his head. "Please. I need this."

"They'll take you apart if they find out. Jack is," he swallows, stalling. Genji can read in his face how aware Reyes is of treading that line of saying too much. Genji the dog, not trusted still.

And with good reason.

"Doesn't like to share?" Genji asks.

Reyes' face blanches. He looks away. "That's not what I was going to say. He's particular. You outwear your usefulness--if he thinks I'm just keeping you to--"

"To fuck?"

"Genji."

"I will do your missions still. I won't ask about my family any more."

This is a lie.

They both must know this is a lie.

But Reyes moves his hand, traces a finger down the line of Genji's throat so soft, so careful.

"And this is what you need?" He says.

Genji moves his injured hand, presses Reyes' harder against his windpipe. The bracing over his Adam's apple keeps the motion from feeling complete. Loses the sense of danger.

Genji whines. Arches his back. His ass rubs over Reyes' crotch, his thighs cling to Reyes' hips.

"Alright, kid," Reyes says. He closes his eyes. His eyebrows flex. Shame, Genji recognizes, disappointment. "Gimme a safe word." He looks at his hand moves it down, so that his thumb is nestled in he hollow at the base of Genji throat, just below the bracing. "A sign."

Safety first, Genji thinks, bizarrely.

"Stop," Genji says. The upswing makes it a question.

Reyes frowns, then nods. "Not perfect, but it'll do. You have anything to..." he looks down, to where Genji's lap is still resting firmly in his own.

"I've had upgrades," Genji says. "Angela has been more than accommodating."

Except for the bomb.

But Genji doesn't mention that part.

"Just fuck me," Genji says, "Commander. Make me feel it."

Reyes breathing catches. He places both hands on Genji's neck and squeezes. Testing.

Genji's eyes slide close.

His body aches.

Reyes' hands are large and good.

And could almost be Hanzo's.

Almost.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is Deadeye, checking in. You read me okay up there, Sparrow."

It takes a few seconds. Jesse stands at the edge of the bed, counts them as he breathes through his nose. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three--

"Read you, Deadeye," Genji's voice says as the line crackles to life. "All set up here."

Jesse glances up. How many floors hadn't been part of the briefing, he wonders if it's just the plaster of the floor ceiling keeping them apart.

Poor planning, if it is. Just in case things go south. Just in case Diego brings more firepower than their expecting. Jesse shakes his head, pushes the thoughts away. He and Genji are a good team and even in the close scrapes it's always been Genji to pull them out again.

It's wrong of Jesse to doubt him now.

Or to doubt Reyes' planning.

Their Commander is good at what he does. His tactical prowess is really only surpassed by Captain Amari's.

Jesse settles himself on the bed. There is time for a power nap, if he wants it, though he is sure Reyes would have a few choice words for him if he knew.

"Everything set?"

Jesse sits up, blinking. Reyes' voice, clear over the intercom. Not possible of course, he's back at headquarters, waiting on them. Jesse touches his earpiece, pushing it in to hear better. He holds his breath, though the mic part is muted on his end.

Genji's answering: "Yes, sir, we're all set," is just as clear.

Did he call Reyes? Why would he do that? And does he know his comm isn't muted? Angela has only just outfitted him with the better visor, the built in communicator. He is probably still working out the ways to use them.

"Good," Reyes says. His voice moves. Away. Distant. And less tinny than a phone call would be. "You wanna come here?"

"We are on a mission," Genji says. His tone is light, a little playful. Jesse's mouth goes dry.

Reyes is here, he realizes.

Reyes is here, upstairs, somewhere with Genji.

Reyes isn't supposed to be here.

"Yeah. I think you can stand a distraction for the time being," Reyes' voice says.

Jesse swallows, audibly. His fingers fall away from the com in his ear. He shouldn't be hearing this, he doesn't want to be. He should link in, tell Genji he's not muted like he thinks he is. That there has been a mistake. A mistake.

Because Jesse knows Reyes well enough to recognize that hitch in his tone. He's overheard him talking to Jack on more than one occasion in that voice. That Voice. It is capitalized in his head.

He has no desire to know why Reyes is talking to Genji this way.

His fingers shake.

But he does not unmute himself.

Nor does he remove the ear piece.

"What about, Jesse?" Genji asks. There is a rustling from the feed; for a moment Jesse thinks it will cut out. "If something should happen..."

"Target's not expected for another thirty minutes. You think McCree can't take care of himself in that time?"

"But what if he needs me?"

"You guys make small talk on missions often then? Clog up the channels chit-chatting?"

Genji chuckles. The sound rolls easily over the communicator. Another sound Jesse cannot identify. And then Reyes answering groan.

Groan.

Oh shit. Oh Jesus shit.

Jesse freezes, stock still. Staring up at the ceiling where above him his partner and his Commander are touching, or fondling one another or, or, or...

"Fuck," Reyes says. "Safe word, give it to me, Genji."

There is a pause.

Jesse hopes the line has cut out. That it will forcibly remove the choice he has to keep listening to this. He cannot listen to this. He takes a shaky breath.

And as he does, Genji says:

"Jesse."

Jesse.

Jesse.

His name.

"That's awfully cruel," Reyes says. His voice is thick and lazy. Jesse imagines him already stroking his cock. Or letting Genji do it, his hips working in a slow wave to meet each stroke.

"It fits the parameters you set. Not stop. One syllable. And the only reason I'm going to use it is if he's calling me for backup."

Jesse shuts his eyes. There is no way. Genji must know about the intercom, this is some trick, some game. But then Genji moans, a grunting sort of hiccup, and Jesse thinks maybe he was wrong.

Genji's panting fills the line.

And Reyes beneath saying: "You're a cheeky shit, you know? I never should have let you talk me into this."

Genji's noises increase. A humming from his throat, nearer the receiver than Reyes is. Makes sense of course, the com is situated in his helmet.

Jesse feels lightheaded. He takes a breath, sharp and whistling between his teeth. It doesn't help. He tries again, forces himself to breath out of time with Genji. Slow and even and deep.

"Turn over for me," Reyes says.

The shuffling that filters over the the line matches the direction. Genji sighs into the com. His breath hitches.

Jesse can't stand it anymore. His cock gives a plaintive throb in his uniform pants. His hands are shaking as he pulls it out, cups his fingers near the head to keep the mess from spilling onto his belly.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He will not acknowledge it enough to strip while he does.

"Reyes," Genji gasps. Distantly. Miles and miles away, Jesse can hear a faint wet sound. Could be anything.

His imagination supplies plenty of details.

Genji with his pussy sopping and Reyes' thick lips pressing against it. His tongue slipping out and flicking against Genji's swollen clit, so fat and engorged it's almost a cock on its own. Reyes chin covered in Genji's synthetic slick. His goatee and absolute wreck with it.

Jesse flinches. His hips roll against his hand, humping into his fist as over the intercom Genji's moaning increases. Oh god, Reyes slipping a finger into him, working it back and forth, curling and twisting and torturing.

"Please," Genji says, breathless. "Gabe, I need--"

His voice cuts off.

Breathless.

Takes on.

An entirely new meaning.

Jesse freezes. His cock twitches and he is coming hard into his palm. Genji's voice barely reaches him. Gagging sounds flitting over the com. Choked off, breathless heaving.

"Rey--nnn-ye--nng."

It means nothing. Nonsense. Spewed out as Reyes chokes him. Reyes has to be choking him. Maybe sliding in while he does it if the urgency in Genji's voice it to be read correctly.

Jesse dick, still a little hard, spend leaking out of the tip and down the shaft, gives another twitch.

Reyes with his hands, his big fucking super soldier hands, around Genji's throat. The fingers on either side of the bracing. Pressing, squeezing.

Killing him.

Over the intercom, Genji takes a gasping in drawn breath.

"You good?" Clipped. Reyes' tone is utterly focused. Jesse imagines him pumping his hips as he asks, driving his cock into Genji's soaked cunt over and over. "You gotta tell me, or I won't--"

"I'm fine."

Breathless.

Panting.

"Again."

"Alright," Reyes says. "Okay. I'll give you what you need."

Jesse's hand is moving on his cock again. Too quick for another orgasm, but the sensation leaves him rocking, boneless. He listens to Genji gag.

And Genji never once says his name.

\--

"You did good work," Reyes says.

Later, home. Overwatch Swiss HQ. Jesse hates it here. It's too cold. Makes his lips feel chapped and tight.

He is the only one here for debriefing.

He hasn't seen Genji since they put a bullet through the terrorists forehead. And even then it had been...

Brief.

The entire mission.

Handled with expert precision in under an hour.

The handprint had not gone unnoticed by Jesse.

Looking down at Reyes at his desk now and Jesse does not know what to say. He cannot look at his plump lips, thick and full and obscene. He cannot look at Reyes broad, heavy knuckled hands.

Reyes is staring at him. Narrow-eyed.

"Something else you needed, kid?" He asks.

It is only then Jesse realizes he has been dismissed. He scrambles out of the room before Reyes can ask him why he is spacing out. He loops around the base, heading for his temporary quarters.

He passes the medbay.

"Attacked you," he hears Angela's voice say. The high pitched question of it. "Goodness. Why wasn't this included in the report?"

Jesse freezes.

Genji's answering: "Don't know. Reyes doesn't want any weakness in the armor calculated so..."

"But still," she says, concern painting her words. She is so sweet, too innocent to be a part of Genji's game here. "These handprints are so deep," she says. "It must have been frightening."

Jesse, despite his better instincts, glances into the room.

Genji is sitting on one of the operating tables.

With handprints gouged into the metal of his throat. The carbon fiber swell of his buttocks. Hand prints.

Wide-palmed and thick-knuckled.

He looks up and sees Jesse looking.

He smiles like a cat.

"No, doctor," he says. "I wasn't scared at all. Jesse had my back. Didn't you, Jesse?"


End file.
